A Masculine Power

Recently, a friend who has been abused by both father and husband told me of an enlightening experience she had. She actually spent time with a man in comfort.

It might not sound too radical. In fact its rather anti-climactic. But for some of us, including myself, its a rarity to be in the presence of a man and feel comfortable.

My friend was simply visiting another family- the husband/dad happened to be home and was straightening up the kitchen after dinner- and she was blown away at how a healthy, normal man can bring a powerful masculine stability into the home. And into the lives of their friendships.

Men have this power- this masculine power- that is SO NEEDED in our world. But many women and children never get to experience it. For myself, I had an interesting childhood and two bad adult relationships... so when I got a glimpse of this masculine power, it was like drinking fresh water for the first time. I never realized how much I needed it to survive!

My own father is a wonderful man. He provides some of that masculine stability and power. But I didnt get that much of him as a little girl growing up. And there were complications at the time. I am over it as far as any need for further therapy, but I do know that I didnt get the full deal. Not by a long shot. As an adult, I greatly appreciate the times when my father steps up for me and his grandkids. His willingness to change a light fixture, hammer in nails and effect an entire porch, his protective nature for his girls and grandkids... these things are precious to me.

I also, however, desire to have this kind of relationship with a husband. It might be a while before that happens.

But perhaps what was even better is the relationship I was gifted a few years back- a relationship even more precious than that of a father or husband. This was a relationship with a man who became an adopted big brother to me.

I never had brothers. I am the middle of three girls. But I saw that my friends who had brothers had something I did not. Especially those with BIG brothers! What a special thing to have.

And for me, at the age of thirty-something, I gained a big brother. It was a gift from God.

It started out boringly enough. I began to attend psychotherapy to deal with the stress of caretaking for a husband with bipolar disorder. The therapist was a quiet, introspective man, who said little, but spoke volumes in the few words he did speak. I was resistant, but I knew genuine wisdom when I saw it in him. I didnt want guidance.Yet some part of me yielded to this man's power- not any power of dominance, but the simple acknowlegement of his wisdom, his age, his genuine empathy and compassion, and his magnamity. He knew truth, and despite his gentleness, would not veer from it.

It was very attractive, I decided, after spending a year in therapy with him. Not sexually attractive, but rather an attraction toward stability and truth. Someone who was not wishy-washy. I had believed truth to be subjective as hell up until that point- all reality on some sort of a continuum of goodness and filled or unfilled needs. He taught me that, simply put, some things are truth. Some are not.

Which seemed to be going backward in a sense, for I loathe the black and white, good vs. evil world of religious and ethical immaturity. But I began to realize that my fears and resistance were keeping me from coming full circle. Or rather spiraling upward. This man provided a safety that enabled my willingness to grow out of stagnancy. I had been defining myself by what I did NOT believe- out of fear- and I began, under his masculine power, to define myself by what I DID believe. It was risky business, stating what I believe. New and scary, but I was willing to take the risk because of the non-manipulative protection this man offered me.

There were some really good things going on here. We had a professional relationship, I was married and quite dedicated to my husband, and we had 20 years difference in age. These things helped create boundaries that enabled me to refigure how I viewed men.

Up until that point, every man who played a major role in my life had either let me down or blatantly sexually exploited me. This man, my therapist, would not- seemingly could not- go against his own professional situation and personal ethics in order to cause me harm. In many ways, it seems incredibly romantic, except that it simply wasnt sexual. I am reminded of Song of Solomon where in a man MUST see his future wife as his sister before he can love her enough to marry her as a wife. Oh, if all men could see women as their sisters! To give them the respect, love and offer up that masculine power for her. To, not deny, but reserve his sexual desire to see this woman as fully human first, and then decide if sexuality is appropriate and how.

I think sexuality is a reality, even in a non-sexual relationship. My therapist was mature enough to see that. He allowed a space where I could be a full woman, including being attractive and having a sexual identity, without the least bit of exploitation. And as a result, I was able to view him as fully human, no eunich, full of identity and healthy boundaries. He was appreciated by me for being a MAN, a masculine, sexual creature, yet so much more than just a mere sexual creature, who had full control over his thoughts and views of women. This was the first time I felt safe with a man. Ever. I knew, and I still know, that he would never have crossed any boundary, even with the reality that he was fully male. Amazing. What a gift!

And I miss him dearly. He died fifteen months ago from complications of ongoing health issues.The loss of his real, human, masculine presence was and is huge to me and dozens of other friends who knew him. The man had incredible discipline and persistence, which made him a wonderful friend. It also spoke to him many human faults- for he was not perfect.

He worked too much, I think partly from his dedication to help others, but also from his need to avoid certain thoughts and memories. Yet when he played he was delightful. Somehow his humor was doubly precious because of his deep passion and beliefs. This man, who had the ability, credited always to God, to heal men and women from their worst, could also spryly skip around in a playful dance, belt out a delightfully high-pitched and silly laugh, and spark a twinkle in his eyes that would garauntee a grin in response. The man could be a great deal of fun.

I treasure almost more than his gift of therapy, his gift of joy for life. Although, I know well, that the joyful moments of his life were not daily and were often overshadowed by his own problems. And that again, made his joy a better quality, heightened by the knowing how precious it was.

Oh, I miss him. Every day I think of him, his wisdom, his caring and masculine power. Even in death, he guides me like a saint towards that which is good and truthful. I pray often in conjunction with his presence in heaven, and on occasion in purgatory. But I feel fairly sure that he is in heaven. Not perfect, but few saints are.

He has been with me, since his death, several times in ecstatic union with Our Heavenly Father. One of his mission in life was to bring others safely into the loving hands of Jesus, ever safe and nurturing. And that legacy remains after his death- perhaps is even stronger. He was to be my sponsor through my conversion to Catholicism, and a Godparent to my children, but sadly died shortly after that process had begun. Strangely, he has been a very different, but just as powerful guide through all this even in death. His presence is with me in a new and more powerful, albeit subtle, way.

He taught me that all men are not predators. He taught me that the masculine is not frightening, but empowering, a completion of my feminine self, and not wholly dependent on sex. Again, that might seem like a no-brainer to many people, but for myself, perpetually wondering what each man I met might want from my body, it was a revelation. He taught me that God is loving and receptive, and that a spiritual life can be incredibly fulfilling. He taught me to trust the world around me and to take reasonable chances and risks. Most of all, he taught me what a man can be; what to look for in a husband, a friend, and how to raise my son.

He taught me the amazing power of the masculine.